Amethyst and Flame

Leaves of green 
Rust away 
Like the hulls

Of neglected boats

Sleeping at their moors.

Along the quiet avenues

They skitter down

Loosing their bonds

Blanketing the swales

In auburn

Russet and gold.

Laughing children

Skip through them

Sounding as

Dry bones rattling

Or parchments rising

From dusty confines

Along the Dead Sea.

I haven’t the will

To rake them.

Why remove

The only color

This poor city ever sees

Besides the broken amber glass

Of whiskey bottles

Thrown against curbs?

Autumnal winds

Will soon gather them

To deposit

Along fence lines

And limestone foundations

As beds prepared

For virgin snows.

Before their going

I selected a single maple leaf

Amethyst and flame

To pin against my mirror

As reminder

That all creation

Is magnificent

In its spiraling

Final waltz.